


Understanding This

by Cazsuane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazsuane/pseuds/Cazsuane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't understand much, but he understands how to be with Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding This

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first story in 2 years (wrote this in 2006) and it's the least smutty thing I have ever written. It's in a style I've never tried before, either. But it works. 
> 
> The underage warning is for very very very minor stuff. It might not even really be there.

Dean doesn’t know much about women. Doesn’t understand them. He never really had much to do with them, growing up. But then, neither did Sam, and look how he turned out. Dean thinks it’s easier for Sam, because he has that whole new age sensitive guy thing going for him. Women respond to that. Hell, everyone responds to Sam when he’s turning on the sensitive charm. Only Dean knows the real Sam, behind the puppy eyes.

All Dean has is a megawatt smile and a devil-may-care attitude. Women seem to think it’s a façade, an act they want to look under to find the Sam in him. They don’t seem to understand it’s the only way he knows how to be around them. Women make him uncomfortable. He’s never known how to respond to them, never really interacted with them. Of course, there were the odd occasions when girls in school would lean over, blouse drooping to reveal shadowed valleys and gentle curves, to ask him for a pencil. He’d stutter and mumble, and feel like a real tool. 

Dean doesn’t know anything about what women are thinking, and he never had anyone to learn from. When his mother had died, his life became all harsh orders and lessons hard learned, more often than not by trial and error. His father was still trying to come to grips with it all, at the start, and then he was teaching his boys as he learned too. John never brought a woman home, wherever home was at any given time. In fact, he barely spoke to them unless he needed to for a job or wanted a psychic reading. 

Around women, everything Dean is comes from things he has observed. His father had taught him to always be on the look out, to always know what is going on around him at any given time. So Dean watched, and he learnt. He saw how it was the jocks at school that the prettiest girls hung around. He observed how the girls worshiped James Dean, and he thought he shouldn’t let that irony pass. He saw how his father never really indulged in any real emotion; that kind of stuff seemed to be for girls. And Sam.

Dean watched Sam. He always watched Sam. Their father may have been the influence in his life, but Sam was his world. They were told stories by their father, about their mother, John’s beloved wife. About the way she smiled and how much she had loved them. As time went by, those stories became all Dean remembered of her. About that fateful night, that set the boys on this path, Dean mostly remembered Sam and the faith his father put in him to look after his younger brother.

So that’s what Dean did. He looked after Sam. He made sure Sam was doing his homework and whatever exercises Dad set for them. When the bullies at school started hassling Sam, Dean took care of them. Dean stood up for Sam when he wasn’t learning weapons skills fast enough for their father’s liking. He treated Sam’s injuries, whether they be from falling off a bike or the result of some paranormal bastard that had dared hurt Sam. Dean took care of Sam when he had his first erection, calming him down and welcoming him to the world of adolescence. And from that moment on Sam seemed to turn to him for help in more things.

Dean had always known that Sam looked up to him, turned to him for guidance. Their father was too busy with his crusade to teach his growing sons everything society expected them to know. And they never really stayed settled in one place long enough to be able to trust anyone enough to ask. Problem was, Dean didn’t have all the answers Sam thought he did. When it came to demon and spirit hunting, Dean understood. He knew how to fight and how his weapons were best utilised. But Sam had questions Dean didn’t have a clue how to answer. 

Dean had been brought up to never question his father. But he questioned everything else. It was the only way to truly understand everything that was going on, to get to the bottom of a story and find out the truth. According to Sam that was Dean’s greatest failing. Sam had taken questioning the world he wasn’t really a part of to questioning the man who had stopped him from having the chance to be. Dean admires Sam for that, but it was hard for him to tell Sam so. 

There are many things Dean doesn’t understand. And when he comes across something that makes him uncomfortable in his lack of knowledge he puts on this outer skin that he’s formed from his observations of the people around him. He watched how other people reacted in such situations and so reacted in kind. There was never anyone telling him that he was picking up these observations in all the wrong places.

Until the day Sam was back in his life. But Sam was another thing Dean didn’t always understand. 

Dean may not understand women, or this normal, safe life Sam often speaks about. He may not know how to respond when females start getting emotional around him or when Sam’s emotional vulnerability plays on him and Dean isn’t sure he knows how to help. 

But he knows this.

This, the feel of Sam’s skin under his fingertips, his lips. The rasp as their flesh doesn’t quite slip-slide against each other. The burning tight heat of Sam’s body around his own flesh, the way it grasps to keep him in whenever he tries to pull out. As though Sam, too, cannot bear to be parted from this, the deepest of connections. Dean can feel Sam’s heart beating strongly against his chest, pushing the life blood around his body, letting Dean know that right now, Sam’s alive. And nothing else matters, but this.

This, the sound of Sam’s breathing, harsh and rapid, fluttering against Dean’s neck. The way their combined air mingles between them, their lips scant millimetres apart. The sound of Sam’s whimpers and groans in Dean’s ear, urging him on, faster, slower, deeper, more. Sounds communicating that this, this, could be understood.

This, the taste of Sam, bitter and salty and so very real. Dean doesn’t have words to describe how Sam tastes, this essence bursting upon his tongue as he licks, nibbles, bites, sucks and teases. He isn’t one for fancy words and sweet nothings. Dean thinks that maybe Sam could describe it, because Sam understands words. But Dean also thinks that Sam understands Dean and what Dean doesn’t say. Because of this.

These moments, Dean just is. He’s with his Sammy, giving him everything he could never give a woman, giving up parts of himself, being everything he never is. Not for anyone else. Dean knows Sam can see everything in his eyes, because Dean is letting him. Sam stares at him with eyes that barely blink, as though afraid to miss even a second of this. Sam is always looking for answers, always questioning, but it is in these moments, when Sam isn’t asking, that Dean is telling him the things he never thought to ask. 

Dean doesn't have all the answers to all the questions Sam has. Dean doesn’t even understand everything. But right now, Dean understands all he needs to.


End file.
